


Pretty Boy

by merpancake



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merpancake/pseuds/merpancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd fallen in love before anyone else, before the Captain even, before any other man in the crowd at the Emperor's palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written a long time ago for my love of the movie and my desire to see more. I liked Ling a lot and the idea of him secretly pining over Mulan stuck with me. This was posted on ff.net originally.

He'd fallen in love before anyone else, before the Captain even, before any other man in the crowd at the Emperor's palace.

When they first met, they had been enemies, snarky sarcastic Ling against fumbling shy Ping. Ling, who was angry at Ping's clumsiness and inability to fight, who got everyone in trouble. Ping, who was angry at being an outcast and at the way nothing he ever did right was acknowledged.

And then, they were friends, of a sort. More like joking buddies, because Ping laughed at the stupidest of jokes, and sparring partners, because Yao and Chien-Po were both too strong for budding fighters (Ling and Ping would be pummeled at a single hit from either, so they turned to the other).

When Ping had been an idiot and stupid, had stolen the cannon and raced away, Ling had felt his heart in his throat and his hand on his sword, ready to fight for a precious person's life. And he thought Ping looked brilliant out there, snow-glare bouncing off his armor and strong, small legs pumping away through heavy snow.

But when Ping was turned into Mulan—revealed, torn away from the protective layers of clothing and armor and a ribbon to hold thick black hair back—Ling couldn't think. The boy-soldier, the bumbling clumsy kid who laughed at jokes and snuck sucker punches, was a girl who had done all those things. And maybe it wasn't so different after all, if she still fought him like a fox (all sneaky and grinning), and still laughed at his silly jokes—maybe.

So when she had reappeared after the Emperor was spirited away, bright and fresh and her cheeks pink from exercise, he was proud that he was the first to let go and race after her. He'd been annoyed and surprised when she told her plan, and was forced into a concubine's dress, but then she'd dressed in a servant's gown and he thought she was beautiful, even without the makeup and the silk sashes. She was glowing from the adrenaline of tricking Huns, and the euphoria that her friends were still her friends—well, that just made everything about her brighter.

She'd hugged them all, after the explosion, the fight, the honor of her family given back tenfold. And Ling had pressed his painted lips to her cheek, just a little, and she grinned back at him with those sparking black eyes he'd seen first when a little boy had spilled rice on everyone.

Ling had watched when Ping, who was now Mulan, rode away, and a large hand squeezed his shoulder, just the way his heart felt watching her leave him behind.


End file.
